


Your Number On My Back, My Name On Your Lips

by ice_hot_13



Category: Original Work
Genre: Hockey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_hot_13/pseuds/ice_hot_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan doesn't come to their playoff game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Number On My Back, My Name On Your Lips

 “Where’s Ryan?” Aaron hears as soon as he walks into the locker room for the playoff game. Aaron grits his teeth and drops his bag on the floor before the bench.

            “He’s not coming,” Aaron says tightly.

            “Why not?” Justin asks.

            “He says he has to study for an exam tomorrow,” Aaron says, tries hard to keep the contempt out of his voice. He takes out his phone, glowers at the text.

             _Not coming. Studying test tmrw_

            “But no one even studies for that thing, seriously, such an excuse,” he adds, “he’s being a bitch.”

            “An exam?” Dan contributes.

            “He’s being a little bitch,” Aaron mutters. His teammates start discussing alternate lines. Aaron focuses on getting dressed, tries not to think about it.

            He feels Ryan’s absence for the entire game. Every pass he can’t make to Ryan infuriates him, every time Ryan isn’t there to make an assist or score a goal, and when Aaron scores and Ryan isn’t there to hug, that’s when Aaron’s game starts to go south.

            Fuck Ryan, though. Aaron  _just_ told Ryan he’s going to be moving to France on an exchange program, so their days together are fucking  _numbered,_ and what does Ryan do? He skips the last goddamn game they’ll play together.

            Sometimes, Aaron wants to tell Ryan  _I’m fucking in love with you, okay? So every time you do shit like this, it hurts so fucking bad I can’t breathe,_ but then Ryan wouldn’t be around to screw with his head like this, and Aaron wouldn’t be able to live with that, not at all.

\----

            Ryan shuts his textbook with a sigh, pushing it onto the comforter. He tilts his head back against the wall and digs his phone out of his pocket. The time says  _11:30;_ the Werewolves playoff game has ended, then. The unread text is still sitting there, because Aaron had texted him back after Ryan had said he couldn’t play tonight, and Ryan’s afraid to read it. Las time Aaron texted him, Ryan found out he was moving to France.

             _Last wolves game!_ Aaron had sent earlier this evening.

             _Till next season neways,_ Ryan had replied, already starting to collect his gear.  _Except for losers like u who graduate like losers. Ull have to watch r games. alumni_

             _Cant dude moving to france._

            Ryan’s heart had about stopped at that, and he’d told himself  _it’s sarcasm, or some really fucking un-funny joke._

             _France?_ He’d typed out, fifteen misspellings before he sent it.

             _Ya didn’t I tell u? xchange thng. Selling back my jersey tonite and stuff_

            That part had hurt almost as much as the France thing.  _The France thing, oh God._ Ryan had kind of thought Aaron would keep the jersey, to remember this team they played together on, this team they helped move on from a win-less season, this team they  _shared._ Ryan had maybe hoped they’d switch jerseys, have each other’s, but apparently that would be too fucking sentimental for Aaron, who isn’t even keeping his, and Ryan’s just relieved he never brought it up. Aaron wouldn’t want Ryan wearing his number on the ice, wouldn’t want to wear Ryan’s like it wasn’t just his but theirs, because he’s going away, he won’t want that kind of weight on his shoulders during every game plays. If he plays hockey at all over there.

             _The France thing._ Ryan opens the text message, but it’s nothing like that. Aaron sent it after ryan said he wasn’t going to the game in response to aaron’s ‘I’ll come pick u up’, and it just says  _it’s the playoffs but don’t let that bother u fucker._

            Ryan nearly throws his phone away from him, barely restrains that into just dropping it onto the nightstand. He feels  _bad_ about skipping the playoffs, but he just  _can’t go._ He can’t sit there and watch Aaron give away his jersey and can’t sit beside him on the bench and listen to their teammates wish Aaron good luck in France, he  _can’t._ He can’t fucking _function_ without Aaron, and he’d thought that was mutual. Aaron is everything. He’s been there for as long as Ryan can remember, and Ryan’s been in love with Aaron since he found out what that even felt like, and it felt like something created just for them.

            But now Aaron’s leaving. He’s leaving and he  _forgot to tell Ryan._ Like he has no idea that he’s ruining everything Ryan has. What does he expect Ryan to  _do?_ He’s already a year younger than Aaron and has a year left of school here without Aaron. Ryan’s accepted that, is as close to used to it as he can be. He lived through fourth grade, even though he stopped playing soccer with the other boys because it wasn’t fun without Aaron, and that time Hunter broke Ryan’s finger on accident in PE, Ryan had wished Aaron was there, because he’d have gotten Ryan ice from the office and told him it looked cool, how his finger was crooked now. He lived through eighth grade, did the science fair project by himself because Aaron was the only partner he liked to have, had sat there during graduation and waved at Aaron in the audience, and skipped the grad dance to have a sleepover with Aaron instead. He’d lived through twelfth grade, already deeply in love with Aaron at that point, spending a lot of lunch periods doing homework because his friends had all graduated, visiting Aaron at his dorm on weekends and wishing he could just stay there, living for the sleepovers when Aaron let him share his twin bed because the floor was gross, and Ryan had never felt so close to him, even though the urge to kiss him was really hard to resist then. He’d lived through all that, and he was prepared to live through fourth year at university, so in love with Aaron that it hurts, was going to do his homework sitting at Aaron’s kitchen table in his new apartment, listening to Aaron talk about his job. It was supposed to be like that, but Aaron’s taking all that away now.

            He’s going to France, and he shouldn’t be, because his French is shitty, he doesn’t even like exotic food, he won’t be able to find any hockey there, and Ryan’s still here.

            His phone buzzes, and the text from Aaron says  _we lost fucking slaughter no thx to u. wolves 4 life eh???_ Ryan opens up a new message to reply, but nothing comes to him. All he can think is that he won’t be able to text Aaron next year, international texting is expensive, they’ll have to talk in person –  _he can’t do that either, Aaron will be gone._ The screen blurs as Ryan’s eyes fill with tears, and he sets his phone aside, message empty. He reaches over to shut off the light and burrows under the blankets, ignoring his phone when it buzzes again and again.  _He’s going to be gone,_ and Ryan’s going to be here, no way to escape that dreaded year without Aaron at his side, because this isn’t like those other years, where he could find Aaron on the weekends and after school. Aaron’s not going to be on the bench or in the passenger seat or the next desk over, won’t even be on the other end of the phone texting him.

            He hates himself when he starts to cry, and this is the real reason he couldn’t play tonight; he’s so fucking in love with Aaron it hurts, and wasn’t enough to make Aaron want to stay.

0o0o0o0o       

            Aaron says to his teammates that Ryan wouldn’t have been able to completely save the game if he was here, he would have just prevented some of the goals, but Aaron knows that’s not true. Ryan would have defended them, true, but Aaron’s own game is nothing without him, too. Ryan’s absence robs the team of two players. He can just imagine it, Ryan’s studying for his stupid exam he doesn’t even  _need_ to study for – or maybe he’s not even doing that, maybe that was just an excuse, because he just didn’t care to play in this doomed playoff game. No miracles were going to happen tonight.

            Aaron texts him after the game, but as soon as he’s left the locker room, he digs his phone back out of his pocket.

             _Sorry,_ he sends. Then,  _that was really mean I didn’t mean it I swear._

            He doesn’t get anything in reply, and maybe that’s why he ends up standing outside Ryan’s apartment, debating going in. No one answers when he knocks; Ryan’s roommates are barely ever here. Ryan should be now, though, because the door’s open when he tries it.

            “Ryan?” he calls out, leaving his jacket on the couch and shoes by the door. “Dude, you here?” he’s not leaving without being sure Ryan at least hears his apology; the loss hurt tonight, and now he feels fucking  _worse,_ can’t live with that, can’t. Ryan’s bedroom door is open, and Aaron looks in. Ryan’s already in bed, curled up under the blankets. “You asleep?”

            “What?” Ryan sounds… different. Aaron doesn’t want to think about that; he takes Ryan’s hoarse  _what?_ as an invitation, goes to sit on the side of the bed.

            “You see my texts?” he asks. “The, uh. Last ones.”

            “I’unno. No.” Ryan sits up, kind of sniffling. “Which?”

            “Said I was sorry. For blaming you for our loss.”

            “Oh. Okay. You come here to tell me that?” Ryan asks. Aaron frowns, studying his face. Without thinking, he reaches out, brushes his thumb across Ryan’s cheek.

            “Are you-” he starts, kind of chokes on the rest of the words, because Ryan was crying, and Aaron can’t  _handle_ that.

            “No,” Ryan says quickly, rubbing at his eyes with his hand, “no.”

            “Ryan.”

            “You’re  _leaving,_ okay?” Ryan bursts out suddenly, “you’re moving to fucking France, and you’re mad at me for missing one goddamn game?”

            “Well… it was our last game together,” Aaron mumbles, because yes, he was a jerk, but he does have an explanation, pathetic though it is.

            And Ryan- Ryan buries his face in his hands and makes this strangled little sound, and Aaron couldn’t stand the idea of Ryan crying, but when Ryan starts sobbing right in front of him, he realises that doesn’t even begin to cover it.

            “Ryan…”

            “You’re a fucking  _jerk,_ you know that?” It’s probably supposed to sound intimidating, but Ryan’s so quiet, so broken, and that hurts more than anything else ever could, “our last game? What the fuck do  _you_ care about that?”

            “How could I not care?” Aaron asks, and he wants to just – grab Ryan and hug him, so tight, but Aaron doesn’t move, and Ryan just sits there, face in his hands, won’t look at Aaron.

            “Because you  _don’t,_ it’s fucking  _obvious,_ you’re leaving, Aaron! You’re going to goddamn France, who even knows why, and  _you’re leaving me!”_ Ryan dissolves into sobs at that, and Aaron  _hates_ himself for this, all of it. He’s caused all this himself – decided to move so he wouldn’t have to live with this terrible love he has for Ryan, didn’t tell Ryan, abused him about the game, and then came here, woke him up only to make him cry.

            “But…” Aaron wants to hold him, but setting a hand on Ryan’s knee is as close as he gets. “I have to, okay? I can’t… really explain it, but that’s why I’m… going.”

            “What’s why? Why are you going?”

            “To… to be away from…” he can’t finish the sentence, but Ryan looks at him, and Aaron knows he got it anyways.

            “You just want to get away from me,” Ryan whispers, and then he’s actually sobbing, so hard and hurtful and all Aaron can make out is  _“oh God I did this,”_ and it just  _kills him._

            “I didn’t mean it like that,” Aaron protests, and he can’t fucking  _take_ it anymore. He crawls across the bed, tugs Ryan down to lie next to him so he can wrap Ryan in his arms. “I didn’t, I swear.” Ryan doesn’t reply, can’t, crying into Aaron’s chest and holding onto him tightly. Aaron doesn’t know what to say, how to fix this, so he just whispers  _I’m so sorry._

            Hours later, Aaron’s still awake. Ryan’s asleep in his arms, curled in tight against him, makes distressed little sounds in his sleep every now and then, soothed only by Aaron’s hands on him.

             _I could stay,_ Aaron thinks, watching the streetlamp outside the window, golden light illuminating the rain that’s been falling for a while. Staying here, being near Ryan, it will hurt, but leaving would hurt  _Ryan,_ and that would be so, so much worse. Tonight showed Aaron just how painful it is, knowing what kind of pain he can inflict on his best friend.

            Aaron wouldn’t be able to live through that again, doesn’t want Ryan to ever have to.

            He could stay.

00o0o0o0o0o

            Ryan wakes up to find that Aaron’s arms are still around him. He doesn’t want to deal with anything that happened last night, doesn’t want to even think about it, so he just scoots in close, because as soon as Aaron wakes up he’ll push Ryan away, so he wants to enjoy this as much as possible until Aaron does.

            “Hey,” Aaron whispers, and Ryan flinches, but Aaron doesn’t let him move. His fingers stroke over Ryan’s short hair, and Ryan relaxes a little.

            “Hey,” he whispers back, closing his eyes again.

            “Don’t you have an exam today?”

            “No. They’re reviewing the midterm answers.” The exam was a lie; Aaron seems to realise this, but he doesn’t say anything. His hand drops down Ryan’s back, curls around his hip; he doesn’t seem to mind that Ryan’s hand’s just there on his back, under his shirt.

            “Don’t wanna go to that?”

            “I got an eighty on it.”

            “My class is cancelled.”

            “That’s good.”

            “Yeah.” Aaron’s thumb brushes light half-circles over Ryan’s skin, his hands so warm. He’s quiet for a few minutes, and Ryan nearly falls back asleep, so warm and safe and comforted, Aaron’s touch soothing him back to sleep. This, this is the kind of thing he didn’t dream of, too impossible to even dream of. He’s dreamed of things like drunken slip-ups, emotionless experimenting, nothing like this, because this feels too much like something he can count on.

            “I’m sorry I made you cry,” Aaron whispers then. Ryan sighs out a breath, closes his eyes.

            “It’s okay.”

            “No, it’s not.”

            “It’s fine.”

            “Not to me.”

            Ryan doesn’t really know what to make of that, so he doesn’t say anything.

            “I didn’t mean- what I said, I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.”

            “Did you mean what you said? About going so you can leave me?” Ryan mumbles this into Aaron’s shirt, because he’s not going to look at Aaron, because he’s not going to cry again.

            “Um,” Aaron says, “yeah. Yeah, I meant that.” His words don’t match everything else, from his mournful tone to the way he tucks Ryan against his chest, like he doesn’t want Ryan to move even an inch away from him. “But not for the reason you think.”   

            “So- so then why?” Ryan asks, and his voice cracks, but he’s just grateful he’s not a sobbing mess.

            “Um. Can I just- tell you it’s not your fault and not tell you the reason?” Aaron asks, almost pleadingly, “I just- it’d- you’d-”

            “Tell me,” Ryan says, snuggles in closer; he’d never dare do any of this if they weren’t already here, but lines he wouldn’t dare cross before seem to be kind of… gone.

            “I…”

            “I’ll tell you why I was- was- it wasn’t because you were mad,” he finishes faintly. “I’ll tell you why I’m upset.”

            “You- still are?” Aaron sounds so  _wounded,_ but Ryan doesn’t reply. “Why? Tell me.”

            “You first.”

            “But- I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me, Ryan,” Aaron says, and he’s openly begging now, but Ryan shakes his head.

            “You first.” He closes his eyes, breathes in the last of this moment, Aaron’s arms around him, so close he couldn’t be closer.

            “I didn’t think I could take it anymore,” Aaron says quietly, “being- around you. And- and in love with you.” Ryan’s hold on Aaron tightens, and he tries to say something, anything, but can’t form any words. “So, um. Putting that aside. What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing,” Ryan manages, “nothing.” He pulls back from Aaron, and a hurt, horrified look flashes across Aaron’s face as he pulls his hand away from Ryan, but Ryan doesn’t let go, just scoots up so he can kiss Aaron. Aaron makes a surprised little sound when he does, and his hands stray instantly back to Ryan, pulling him in closer.

            “But what’s- your reason – for-” Aaron’s stammering , a little breathless, and then a smile lights up his face, _“ohhhh,”_ and he cups Ryan’s face in his hands, kisses him, gentle and sweet and maybe a little unsteady, anxious with the realisation that this is  _theirs_ now. “I’m not going anymore,” Aaron says, “running away from you was stupid.”

            “It turned out okay,” Ryan murmurs, “but don’t- don’t ever leave me again. Okay?”

            “Never,” Aaron promises, then he frowns, “um, by the way, I’m sorry for everything I said about you in the locker room.”

            “What’d you say?”

            “I, uh, called you… a bitch? For not coming?” Aaron looks genuinely remorseful at this. “I just… I was mad you didn’t want to spend as much time with me as you could, before I left?”

            “I’m sorry I didn’t go.” Ryan skims his fingertips up and down Aaron’s side, slow. “Didn’t think I’d be able to like… watch you give your jersey back and be happy about leaving. Not when I love you this much.” He sighs out a breath. “It’s just… you’re everything to me, okay? You always have been.”

            Aaron kisses him, to say  _you’re my everything too,_ to say  _I’m sorry I scared you._

            “Ryan… I kept my jersey,” Aaron says, like it’s a confession. “Thought maybe you’d wear my number next season.”

            Ryan’s so happy he could cry, and he smiles at Aaron, can barely believe that last night, he thought he was losing the whole world. “Only if you come watch our games.”

            “Wolves for life. And yours. Just yours.”

            “You can wear my number on your next team.”

            “My next team?” Aaron shakes his head, “no way will I be on a team without you. You’re my partner,” Aaron grins, then it softens, and he kisses the tip of Ryan’s nose. “In everything, Ryan.” Ryan can’t really say anything, too in love with the way Aaron says his name, the way this has all happened like it was always going to, such a natural thing to happen.

            They eventually fall back asleep, and Ryan dreams of wearing Aaron’s number next season, of the next team they’ll join together, reunited on the ice, every rink their home so long as they’re there together.

            Five years from now, they’ll be returning for another season with their post-university team. Some of their teammates will be familiar, from the days when Ryan watched Aaron with so many words left unsaid and Aaron hugged Ryan after goals without saying why he didn’t ever want to let go. Five years from now, Ryan will step out onto the ice with a new name on his back, a jersey that matches Aaron’s both in emblem on the front and in the name on the back.

            For now, though, Ryan just curls in closer, Aaron’s arms around him, and sleeps.

 


End file.
